Atlanta
by Little Miss Massacre
Summary: It all started on the night of April 14th, 1912. I was laying in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, wondering when it was my turn to die. Everybody else was dead, so I knew that it was my turn soon. Then they showed up, and they changed everything...
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

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**April 14****th****, 1912**

It was so cold. Everything was so cold. I couldn't feel my fingers or my toes, not even my arms or legs. Everything was numb; everything. I watched silently as I blew out a breath of air, which crystallized in the freezing night air. I blinked slowly, trying to dislodge some of the ice crystals that had formed on my long, black lashes. I tried wiggling my fingers, and managed a small movement. I then tried my toes, but they were frozen solid from being in the ocean for so long. Come to think of it, how long had I been lying here? And where was everyone else? I tried to shift my body so I could see the area around me properly, but my body wouldn't obey. I tried again and managed to turn slightly, but I still couldn't see anything. Or hear anything.

Why couldn't I hear anything? If memory served, there should be hundreds of people around me, splashing and screaming for help. But no one was splashing; no one was screaming. What did that mean? I shifted again and rolled to my side, which also caused the bit of wall I was laying on to dip dangerously into the sea. I stopped moving, eyeing the black ocean with dread. Slowly I lifted my eyes, and swept my wary gaze across the mass watery grave. Everywhere I looked, the ocean was littered with frozen bodies; frozen bodies that would perhaps belong to my family.

I lowered my head back down and stared at the black, merciless water silently lapping against the wood. I would have cried, if my face and eyes were not so cold. I lay motionless, wondering what would become of me. Would the rest of me freeze soon? Would I slip into a slumber I would never awaken from? When was I going to die? Why wasn't I dead yet, like everyone else? What was so special about me?

As I pondered all this, my thoughts slowly drifting from death to the need to sleep, a dull yellow light swept across the ocean, lighting up all the bodies. I watched the light as it played across the ocean, silently highlighting all the dead. Then the light swept across me, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the harsh light. I heard voices, but I couldn't respond. I couldn't get my voice to work, or my mouth to open. The light flashed over me again, and this time I stared straight into it. The voices sounded again, this time closer and louder. The light became brighter too, or maybe it was just getting closer as well? Either way, I couldn't tell. Or I just didn't care.

I watched as a small black shape loomed into my view. I tried to focus on it, wondering what it was. A boat. It was a boat. And there were people in that boat; live people. I stared as the face of a young man appeared in front of me, asking me a question. I didn't reply, just closed my eyes and thanked the heavens that someone had found me.

I felt strong arms encompass me and then the strange feeling of being lifted. Then I was placed into someone's arms, and a large warm blanket was wrapped around me. I curled my fists around the edge of the blanket, seeking more warmth. Arms and hands wrapped around me, pulling me against a warm body. I leaned against whoever was holding me, laying my head back against their shoulders. As we rowed away, I looked down upon the watery grave, grieving the loss of my family, and then slipped slowly into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

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**Hmm, can anyone guess what happened on the night of April 14th, 1912?  
If anyone has any suggestions/ideas on how I can change this, just review. Or review if you liked it. Or even if you didn't like it. Oh, and is there anyone out there who would like to be my beta reader? If so, just PM me.**

**Thanks, VampSa :D  
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	2. Chapter 1

**Okay, just so you know this is going to be written like a diary. If it doesn't seem like a diary in parts, PLEASE let me know so I can change it!!!!**

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**April 10****th**** 1912, Southampton, England**

I stood on Berth 44, staring up at the large White Star Liner that was to take me and my family to America. Never had I seen a ship so large, so extravagant. The steel on her hull was shiny and new, not one dent in it. The crisp white paint of the walls weren't chipped and reflected the sun beautifully. The decks, I am sure, would be perfectly smooth to walk on. Everything about this ship was perfect to anyone's eye; and that was only the outside.

I imagine on the inside everything would be much more luxurious. Well, luxurious for those lucky enough to secure private, first class suites; like my family had. Still, I do believe that the second and third class quarters would be luxurious as well; at least more luxurious than any other ship.

My father came and stood beside me, placing a large hand on my small bony shoulder. He stared up in wonder at the ship as I did.

"Well, what do you think, Lana?" Father asked as he looked down at me, sea green eyes sparkling merrily.

"I think it's amazing," I breathed, not taking my eyes off the ship, "I can't believe we were so lucky to get tickets."

"Believe it, my dear," Father said proudly, "you have no idea what I would do to keep my family happy."

"Oh, Papa," I said excitedly hugging him fiercely, "I know we all appreciate it greatly." Father laughed and pulled my arms from around him, and then proceeded to order crew members around. These cases here and here were to go to Suites B52, 54 and 56; these boxes were to go to B54 and 56; the family safe to B52 and so on and so forth. Father knew what he was doing, and tipped the crew members for their work.

I heard a squeal of excitement as my younger sister, Amelia, ran up to me and tugged on my skirts.

"Can you believe it, Lana?" she asked excitedly, "we're going to go on this boat!"

"Ship," I corrected her, "it's a ship, not a boat."

"Oh, Lana, does it matter what she calls it?" Armand asked, sidling up beside us.

"Yes, it does," I replied coolly, "she's almost twelve. She should know the difference between a boat and a ship. And oh, is this a ship!"

"Lana, you are the weird one," Armand laughed. I shot him a quick glare then gazed around the berth. Thousands of people had come to see them off, all waving and cheering, saying their goodbyes to family members. Crew members scurried around, gathering people's belongings to load onto the ship; directing passengers; helping other crew to load cars and crates onto the back decks. Where would they store all of it? Perhaps there were storage decks below, where none of the passengers could see them. Perhaps they were somewhere around the engine room? Yes, that seemed likely. They'd be where no passengers could access them.

I started as a whistle blew and passengers began to make their way up the gang planks towards the open doors of the ship. I looked around for my father and found him herding Amelia and Armand towards the first class gang plank. He waved for me to follow. I walked absently behind them, looking at the faces of all the people surrounding me. Some were laughing; some were cheering; others were crying. With all the different emotions clambering around me, I also felt the urge to yell out and cheer. But that was not appropriate behaviour for someone of my status; as my annoying but loveable Aunt Margaret would remind me. It really was too bad that she wasn't coming on this voyage; I would have enjoyed her company far more than that of Amelia's or Armand's.

I turned towards the gang plank and placed one foot on it. This was it. As soon as I stepped fully onto the gang plank, I would never step foot on English soil again. I smiled and stepped onto the plank, and walked up towards the door. My father stood there waiting for me, smiling and encouraging me to step onto the ship. As I did, I turned around and looked once more at the small town I would never see again.

As I stepped inside, I froze and marvelled at the beauty of the interior of this ship. Everything was bathed in deep red and gold. The walls were a deep mahogany, contrasted with the gold leaf that was decorated everywhere. It was all beautiful. I would have liked to look some more, but Amelia and Armand were dragging me up a flight of stairs and onto the main deck of the ship. Father was already up there, waving and shouting out to the crowd below. Amelia and Armand soon joined him, both laughing and calling out. I stood hesitantly beside them, not knowing what to do. I didn't know why we were calling out to the people still on the berth; we didn't know any of them. I voiced my query to Armand who just looked at me.

"We're never going to see these people, or this town, again Lana," Armand said, "that is why we are waving."

"But we don't know any of them!" I protested.

'Does it matter?" Father asked, "We'll never see them again. Do try and loosen up, Atlanta. We don't live with your Aunt anymore. We don't abide by her rules. Status doesn't really matter anymore." I grumbled and folded my arms across my chest, sour about the fact that I had just been reprimanded for being the way I was taught to be.

"Cheer up, Lana. Just think, later we can order some crew around," Armand said, "that way you won't forget your status." I smiled grudgingly, and then sighed as I gave a half-hearted wave to the people below us. Little did I realise how right my family was; we really never were going to see any of these people again; the people on the berth and the people on the ship.

I walked aimlessly through the corridors stopping every now and then to peer out a window and look at the vast amount of sea that was surrounding us. We were finally on our way, although we did have to stop at Cherbourg in France to collect more passengers. I made my way back to my rooms, and sat down on the rouge chaise lounge. Although my father had said status no longer matters, it obviously did to the crew and to the suites you stayed in. Ours were the most luxurious suites I had ever seen: mahogany wood everywhere; leaf gold around the edges; deep red wall paper; luscious carpets; and even more luxurious furniture. I loved the bedroom that I had been given. The carpet was royal purple, the wall paper a gold-yellow; a small vanity was in the corner, the looking glass so clear and clean I could see my reflection perfectly; there was a cherry wood dresser with six drawers that were now filled with my clothing; a four-poster bed occupied one wall of the suite, which was covered in a deep russet doona cover; and a small bedside table, whose small drawer was filled with my most precious and worldly possessions.

I looked up as the door to my suite opened and watched Armand enter, accompanied by a young woman no older than me. She was quite short, with silvery blonde hair and bright, baby blue eyes. She was very pretty. It seemed that Armand was giving her a tour of our suites. He must hold a soft spot for her, because he never talks to girls. Armand introduced the girl to me, and gave me a look that said "be nice". I just raised an eyebrow back at him and smiled at the girl. Her name was Julia, and she was housed a few rooms down from us. First class as well. Maybe she and I could be friends, because from the look of her clothes, status was very important to her. As they were leaving, I overheard Armand ask her to join us for dinner. She said she would ask her parents whether she would be permitted or not. Oh, I do hope she can join us.

Armand retired to his suite after that, and I readied myself for dinner. We were to be having dinner in the First Class Dining Room, the most exquisite dining room on the ship. I dressed in my favourite dining attire: a pale blue dress that was pure silk, with white glass beads sewn onto the bodice with silver thread. I pulled my long black hair into an elegant knot at the back of my head, and placed three small pearl clips into the bun. I pulled on my silver heels, grabbed my shawl and waited for the rest of my family. Once we were all ready, we headed down to D-Deck, where the dining room was. On our way to the dining room, we passed the Grand Staircase. Oh, it was magnificent! The dome above the staircase let in the last rays of the dying sun, casting a beautiful golden glow on all the rich, first class couples descending the staircase from the main deck of the ship above. I must beg father to let us walk down the staircase on the way to dinner one day. I believe it would fabulous.

We passed many people on the way to the Dining Room, many who bowed or acknowledged my father. He must have made friends while we were exploring the ship. As we approached the doors to the dining room, I noticed a boy standing just to the side of the doors. He wasn't a doorman that was for sure, nor was he a passenger. He was dressed to shabbily to be a passenger. Perhaps he was from the engine rooms? Or the kitchens? Either way, I didn't pay much attention to him, even when he openly stared at me with piercing blue eyes. I just simply put my nose in the air and walked on by. An action I will regret later on.

Dinner was absolutely superb. I had never eaten so much fine food in my life, or listened to such delightful music. Father has gone to the Men's Saloon for a cigar and brandy, along with the other men who joined us at dinner. Amelia has wandered off with her new found friends, Hannah and Lucy. Armand, of course, has joined Julia up in the Palm Court. I have retired to my suite for now, so tired and full from the meal. Tomorrow we'll be stopping in Queenstown, Ireland, to pick up more passengers. Then it'll be nothing but the Atlantic Ocean for miles, then America. I am so excited; I cannot wait to arrive in America. Only four more days to go, then we are at our new home.

At dinner we were joined by a Mr. Bruce Ismay. He was the man who had designed the ship and the one responsible for making her so luxurious. He was also the one who named the ship. He named her for her extreme speed and luxury. The ship was called Titanic.

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**Dun dun dun!! Lol, you all probably already knew that the ship was Titanic. And don't worry, this isn't going to be anything like the story of Titanic. It's not going to have Jack or Rose, it's just going to have the main story of what happened to the ship. Plus a few shape shifters thrown in.  
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you have any suggestions or flames. I don't mind flames. I think of them as constructive advice :P**

**Thanks again, VampSa**

**P.S I do not own the Titanic or anything to do with the Titanic (though, God, I wish I did).  
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	3. Chapter 2

**Well, here I am again. Sorry I haven't updated for so long, I wasn't getting much feedback so I practically gave up :/ But then I got two reviews so I decided to post the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it.**

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**April 11****th****, 1912**

**Morning**

So here we are again, another day aboard the Titanic. We left Queenstown, Ireland, a few hours ago and are now steaming our way across the Atlantic Ocean, towards America. I spent the morning in the Palm Court, talking with Julia and her friends Marissa and Grace. They're both really lovely, and very fashionable. They all promised that tonight before dinner they'd help me pick out an outfit and style my hair.

We were all talking happily until Father and Armand came along and told me that I must join them and Amelia for a walk around the main deck. I didn't really want to go, but I didn't want to disappoint Father. Family means a lot to him ever since Mother died.

So we all ended up walking around the main deck, stopping and talking to other passengers and looking out on the ocean. It was a beautiful sight, I must say. The ocean was a clear blue-green, stretching for miles and miles around us. We then continued towards the bow of the ship (the front) where some young children were playing with spinning tops. Amelia joined them immediately while Father and Armand talked to some other men who were smoking pipes. Why do people smoke? It smells absolutely disgusting. I didn't feel like joining Amelia and the other children, so I just sat down on a nearby bench and watched them. That's when I saw the boy.

He was standing on the other side of the deck, leaning against the rails, the cool sea breeze ruffling his midnight black hair. He was watching the children play with the spinning tops, his sapphire blue eyes creasing into a squint with the intensity of his stare. I studied him subtly, and noticed that he was quite tall and particularly muscular. He had a long face and high cheekbones, giving him a prominent chin. His chin gave him a devil-may-care look, which made him all the more intriguing.  
I didn't realise that I was staring at him when he looked me square in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. I blushed furiously and turned away, mortified that I had been caught staring. I turned my attention to my feet and stared long and hard at my boots, waiting for my burning cheeks to go back to the pale porcelain that they usually were. I glanced around with what I thought was nonchalance and sneaked a look at him. He was no longer looking at me, and he was walking away. A strange feeling of disappointment settled around my shoulders, but I shook it off quickly and reprimanded myself for feeling that way. I didn't know who he was or what status he had. And besides, he was just a boy. I didn't have time to behave like all those other silly, swooning girls who were openly admiring him... and receiving nods of approval from the boy. I was much more mature than that. Then why was I so jealous?

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**April 11****th**

**Afternoon**

I enjoyed a nice quiet lunch on our private deck just outside our suites. I was now sitting on one of the deck chairs, looking out over the railings and staring at the sea. I had my journal in one hand, within which I am currently writing and my other journal where I pen all my ideas for these wild stories flitting inside my head.

One day, I aspire to be a writer. I want to write about dangerous adventures, daring heroines and the handsome heroes who would help them on their journey. I guess you could say it was my way of escaping reality. In my stories, anything and everything could happen with various consequences, but in the end everything would turn out right. Aunt Margaret had always thought that it was stupid of me to write about fantasies that didn't exist or could never happen, but she didn't understand my burning desire to be someone else; no one did.  
I know I come across as a spoilt brat who gets everything under the sun and only cares about money and status, but I'm not really like that. That's just the way I've been brought up to be. I was told that wealth and your position in society meant life or death to a girl like me. If I failed to marry a wealthy man I'd be on the fringes of society for the rest of my life, or end up as a spinster because my family would disown me. Oh, how I hate being the eldest girl. Amelia doesn't have to worry about marriage until she is my age. But, it would be very embarrassing if she were to be married before me. Why am I even writing all this? I'm supposed to be writing about the boy.

Yes, the boy with the blue eyes and the cold, hard stare. I met him again up on the main deck, where he stared openly at me with no shame. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and wished that he would look anywhere but at me. But no, he didn't stop staring. He did something much, much worse. He started walking towards me! I couldn't believe it. I desperately wanted to run away before he got much closer, but I also wanted to stay because he fascinated me. He had a look on his face that was halfway between amusement and curiosity. He came and stood in front of me, looking down the bridge of his nose. I looked up slowly, and peeked at him from under my lashes. He was looking at me strangely, like he was fighting the urge to laugh or cry. I finally looked up at him fully, and noticed that he had green flecks in his supposed all sapphire blue eyes. I was about to ask him what he wanted when he spoke.

"Hello, Atlanta," he had said. I remember feeling shocked at him knowing my name, then feeling embarrassed when I realised I was staring at him with my mouth hanging open. He looked at me for a few seconds, a small grin on his face when he spoke again.

"I've seen you looking at me," he said, his grin getting even wider, revealing perfectly white teeth. I gaped at him again, asking myself how he dared to say that _I_ was the one staring at him when he was the one who had openly stared _and_ approached me. He chuckled again and chucked me under the chin.

"You're cute when you blush," he said laughing. I glared at him resentfully and yanked my chin from out of his grip.

"How dare you touch me?" I whispered angrily, not wanting to cause a scene, "I don't even know you! And you know my name! How do you know my name? Who are you? And what right do you have to approach me and speak?!"

I knew I was losing my temper and acting like a rich brat, but he had startled me and I didn't like it. Normally I am perfectly capable of speaking to boys, but this one had rendered me speechless.

"You're also cute when you're angry," the boy said chuckling again, "and don't ask so many questions. Asking questions can get you into trouble when you're speaking to a stranger."

"Then don't be a stranger!" I said, a bit breathlessly, "Tell me who you are!" The boy just laughed again and hooked his arm through mine.

"Walk with me, Atlanta," he said, and steered me towards the stern. His hand was warm against my skin, and it felt strange to be walking arm in arm with a complete stranger. I knew that this was very inappropriate behaviour for one such as me, but I couldn't help but feel very excited and a bit...rebellious. Oh, where had these thoughts come from? And why am I so flustered? He was just a stupid boy after all and poor no doubt. The boy walked me to the back of the ship then stood beside me as we looked out over the ocean. I could feel him looking at me again but I refused to meet his gaze. He had humiliated me, I didn't know how he had humiliated me, but I felt it all the same.

"Now now, Atlanta," he scolded, "don't go holding a grudge against me. And don't scowl; it ruins your pretty face." I scowled deeper. He sighed, exasperated. I threw a quick glance at him, and noticed that he looked uncomfortable.

"Why are we here?" I asked, taking advantage of his awkwardness.

"So you are going to talk to me?" he said, watching me with surprise in his eyes.

"I'm only talking to you so I can get some answers" I replied stubbornly, not wanting him to think that I was here with him willingly.

"What answers would you like?" he asked, ever so polite.

"Who are you?" I blurted out rudely. I blushed again and didn't meet his gaze.

"My name is Aiden," the boy answered, taking hold of my chin and turning me to face him, "and I would like for us to be friends." I stared at him again, not caring if I blushed or looked like an idiot.

"Wh-what?" I stammered.

"There's nothing wrong with your hearing," Aiden snapped, causing me to back up a step. I looked at him warily, wondering if he was one of those people who had short tempers.

"I said that I'd like for us to be friends," Aiden said, stepping closer to me, his smile back in place.

"Why do you want to be friends with me?" I asked, surprise written all over my face.

"Because you interest me," Aiden said vaguely.

"Why?" I asked.

"I'll answer that later," Aiden said grinning, "next question."

"How did you know my name?" I asked, looking at his cute boyish grin. _Cute boyish grin?_ What was wrong with me??

"I make it my business to know everyone's name," Aiden said, watching my face for a reaction. I kept myself in check and looked at him.

"Why?" I asked, trying not to let my voice tremble. Was he some kind of stalker?

"I work with the cleaners," Aiden answered, "it's my job to try and memorise all the passengers' names so I know which rooms they're in."

"Oh," I said. That sounded normal enough.

"You thought I was some kind of crazed stalker person, didn't you?" Aiden said, pretending to look hurt.

"No! Of course I didn't! I was just merely curious," I said, hoping beyond hope that he'd believe my pitiful lie. Aiden just smirked; he didn't believe me. I looked away again, feeling stupid.

"So, do you think that we could be friends?" Aiden asked again, "that is, if your pure bred stomach can handle the thought of befriending someone of my status."

'What's that supposed to mean?!" I shouted, fury surfacing immediately.

"Nothing. I was just merely asking whether you could handle being friends with someone like me or if you'd be ashamed and call me your 'servant'," Aiden said, a look of pure disgust on his face.

"I would never do a thing like that!" I said, my voice shaking and my eyes beginning to water, "I'm not that stuck up, no matter how I behave at times!" Aiden just studied me then smiled.

"I think we could be good friends," he said, putting his hand on my arm, "I could teach you to loosen up and act like every other teenage girl here." I just looked at him sadly, a million questions in my head. What would my father think? What would Amelia and Armand think? What would others think? Did I want to be his friend? _Yes._ Did I want to learn to loosen up? _Yes._ Did I want to be like every other teenage girl on this ship and be care free and wild? _Yes._ So why was I so hesitant about being his friend? Did it really matter what everyone else thought? And Father had said to loosen up a bit...

I turned and faced Aiden, a smile on my face.

"I think I'd like for us to be friends," I said shyly, "that is if you can put up with me." Aiden just smiled and took my hand.

"Time for Lesson Number One."

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**Well, thar we go. I'm not sure what to say right now except I hope you enjoyed it and please review!!**

**Thanks for reading :D**

**VampSa  
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	4. Chapter 3

**Oh my gosh, I can't believe how long it's been since I've written something! I blame it all on year 11 and all the homework/assignments my teachers just love torturing me with. Anyway, here's the next chapter.**

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**April 12****th****, 1912**

**Morning**

Last night I had so much fun. Aiden took me for a tour around the entire ship. He even took me down to the Second Class and Third Class quarters! We started off going down in the elevators to the Second Class deck and wandered around a bit.

I met a few people; most of them were young girls who were, once again, swooning over Aiden. Hello again, green monster of jealousy. After walking around, we proceeded down a flight of stairs that led to the Third Class deck. At first I was terrified of going down there, but Aiden assured me that nothing would happen. He just wanted to introduce me to a few of his friends. We walked past heaps of people who were crowded in the corridors, all of whom were staring at me. Oh, I how I wished I wasn't still wearing my dinner gown.

I walked quietly behind Aiden, trying to keep the terrified expression off my face. I could've sworn that I saw several of the third class young women laughing at me. How dare they laugh at me?!

Aiden turned down another corridor then knocked on one of the doors. The door opened and a young boy, who looked to be the same age and height as Aiden, stepped out and grinned. The boy had brown hair and hazel eyes. He also had really white, straight teeth.

"I wondered where you had gotten to," the boy said grinning mischievously, "We were getting worried." Aiden just laughed.

"You? Worried about me?" Aiden asked laughing, "Never heard of such a thing." They both laughed, and then Aiden turned and looked at me. The other boy looked at me as well.

"Ahh, so this is where you've been disappearing to," the boy said, nodding wisely, "you've ditched us for the rich folks. You do realise you'll never get anywhere with them? They're daughters are way to snobby."

"I'm not a snob!" I burst out, then covered my mouth with my hands and blushed. Aiden just laughed.

"No, this one isn't a snob," Aiden said as he removed my hands, "she's just a little different from the others."

"Different how?" the other boy asked, looking me up and down.

"She's my friend," Aiden stated as the other boy cracked up laughing.

"You're actually her friend?!" the boy said, "are you sure you're friends, or is that just what she says to keep you happy and away from her family?"

"No, we're friends," Aiden said, frowning, "I'm going to teach her how to loosen up and act normal."

"Oh, so you're a teacher now?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I am," Aiden responded.

"Are you going to teach her....our ways?" the boy asked, giving Aiden an intense look before inspecting me again.

"Eventually, yes," Aiden said, somewhat sadly, "I'll have to teach her our ways." The boy just nodded.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, but what exactly are _your ways_?" I asked. Both boys just looked at me.

"You'll find out sooner or later," Aiden said, smiling reassuringly, "but for now, I think it'd be nice if we were invited inside." He gave the other boy a pointed look.

"Of course," the boy said bowing and giving a little flourish, "come inside, my liege, and his lady friend." I looked at him oddly as we entered the cabin. There were two sets of bunks, both pushed up against the wall. A sink and a mirror were against the back wall near the porthole. Two more boys were sitting on the bottom bunks. They eyed me curiously for a bit, and then returned to doing whatever they were doing.

"Boys, I'm home!" Aiden shouted, his arms outstretched as he pounced on the other two boys and wrestled them to the floor. I pressed up against the door behind me as I tried to stay out of the path of the wrestling boys. The boy with the brown hair, who had opened the door, soon joined the fight. I didn't know what to do so I just stayed against the wall. Finally I heard someone shout "I give, I give!" and all the boys surfaced from the floor with big, stupid grins on their faces. I looked at them with what might have been horror on my face.

"Who's the rich brat?" one boy asked. He had messy red hair, a freckly face, and moss green eyes.

"Aiden's play toy," the boy with the brown hair answered.

"She's not my play toy," Aiden said, tossing a pillow at the brown haired boy, "she's my friend."

"Oooh, you're friend," the fourth boy said. He had bright blond hair that covered his dark eyes, and a wicked grin exactly like Aiden's. I stared at the four boys; they stared back at me in return. Finally I found the courage to speak.

"Who are you?" I asked. The boys blinked.

"Oooh, she can speak," the blond haired boy snickered.

"Of course I can speak," I said, thoroughly offended.

"That's not what he meant," Aiden said, swatting the blond boy upside the head.

"Yeah, he meant that you can actually speak to poor buggers like us," the red head said. I just gaped at him. They all thought I was a snobby rich brat! Did Aiden think I was a snobby rich brat?

"Of course she can speak to us," Aiden said, glaring at all three of the boys, "I said she was my friend, didn't I?" The others nodded and looked sheepish.

"You got a name, sugar?" the blond boy asked. I just looked at him, then at Aiden. Aiden nodded.

"Yes," I answered, my voice shaking slightly.

"Then what is it?" the red haired boy asked, smirking slightly.

"Atlanta," I answered softly.

"Atlanta?" the brown hair boy said.

"Yes, Atlanta," I repeated, "but my family just calls me Lana."

"What's your last name?" the blond boy asked.

"Why do you need to know?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at him.

"He doesn't need to know," Aiden said, coming to my rescue, "he's just being an idiot." Everybody laughed, except me of course.

"Are you going to introduce us to her, Aiden, or are you going to be rude?" the brown haired boy asked.

"Of course I was going to introduce you to her," Aiden said, scratching the back of his head, "I just wanted her to get used to you guys before I did."

"From the look on her face, I don't think she'll ever be used to us," the red head said. I just looked at him coldly.

"Fine, I'll introduce you," Aiden said sighing, "Atlanta, these guys are my friends. We're travelling together to America. We're hoping to start new lives there."

"You're friends?" I repeated, "Do they do the same job as you?"

"Ah, no. Not exactly," Aiden said, blushing slightly, "I'm, um, I'm not a cleaner." The other boys erupted into fits of laughter.

"You're not a cleaner?" I asked, a fresh wave of fear sweeping through me.

"Um, no," Aiden said, trying not to laugh.

"Then what are you?" I asked. Something in my tone of voice must've triggered something because Aiden looked up at me and studied my face.

"Don't be afraid, Atlanta," Aiden said, standing up slowly as if not to frighten me, "we're not going to hurt you."

"At least not right away," the red head said. I didn't know whether he was joking or not, but my face paled all the same.

"Atlanta, please," Aiden said quietly, "I won't hurt you. I didn't mean to lie to you, but you wouldn't have talked to me if I had told you the truth."

"And what is the truth?" I asked quietly. Although I was speaking softly, you could obviously hear the rage in my voice because all the boys had stopped their quiet chatter and the smirks were gone from their faces.

"The truth is that I am just a passenger, like you," Aiden said, watching my face carefully, "except that I'm not first class, like you. I'm third class and poor. Poor as hell. But I desperately wanted to be friends, so I lied about who I was. I'm dreadfully sorry. Do you think you could forgive me?" I looked at the boy standing in front of me with a cold, calculating look. Aiden had lied to me, and embarrassed me in front of his friends. Plus he was third class, which was practically worse than being a cleaner or a crewman on this ship. How could I forgive him when he had lied to me? I couldn't think of any reasons to forgive him, no matter how hard I tried. I just wanted to walk away from this room and from all the boys and never speak to Aiden again. But I didn't want to hurt Aiden all the same. Even though he had lied, he was the only person who had actually spoken to me out of free will, not because they felt obligated to speak to me. I made my decision and looked Aiden square in the eyes. I saw his throat convulse as he gulped and awaited my reply.

"Lying isn't a good way to start a friendship," I said quietly, my strong gaze never wavering from his face.

"I know," Aiden said quietly, "but what other choice did I have?"

"You could have told me the truth, even if it did mean that I'd never speak to you," I said, "I hate liars. Absolutely hate them. I hate them more than I hate smokers or drunks."

"Or third class citizens," red head remarked. I just glared at him, which made him shut up.

"I really am sorry, Atlanta," Aiden said, hanging his head in shame, "and I'll understand if you leave now and never speak to me again."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," I said. Aiden's head shot up, his green-blue eyes full of surprise.

"You're not?" he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"No, I'm not," I said, gritting my teeth, "I came here to learn a lesson, and learn I will. No matter what type of person you are or who you associate with." Aiden smiled grudgingly.

"Speaking of associates," the brown haired boy said, "I'm Riley." And he swept me up into a bone crushing hug.

"Nice to meet you, Riley," I breathed, rubbing my sore sides. The blond boy stepped up next and hugged me, too.

"I'm Lucas," he whispered in my ear, "Aiden's deranged brother." I laughed as Lucas set me down and grinned.

"And you?" I asked, nodding at the red haired boy. He offered me a glare.

"That's Feliks," Lucas said, "I don't think he likes you."

"Feliks doesn't like anyone," Riley said, frowning, "especially girls."

"I like girls fine enough," Feliks growled, "I just don't particularly like first class girls. And I don't care what you say Aiden, she looks like a rich brat to me. Smells like one too." And he wrinkled his nose and spat on the floor.

"Ugh! Did you have to do that?" Lucas said, disgusted.

"Yes," Feliks replied.

"Why?!" Lucas exploded, "I'm the one who always has to clean the room! It's disgusting and annoying!"

"Calm down, Lucas," Aiden said, "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that _bad?!_" Lucas fumed, "have you smelt your socks?! They STINK!" I couldn't help but laugh. Lucas looked at me then started laughing too. And to think I had been afraid of these boys when they were perfectly fine. Well, all of them were fine except Feliks. He kept giving me weird looks and I couldn't help but get the urge to run for my life. The look was kind of predatory, like a look a starving or angry lion would give to a poor defenceless antelope. I started to settle down and enjoy myself, listening to all the weird jokes the boys traded. I laughed at the few that I got, and frowned at the majority that I didn't get. When I looked out the porthole, I couldn't see anything. For a while I stupidly wondered why I couldn't see anything when I realised that it must've gotten dark. I jumped to my feet and apologized, saying that I had to leave quickly or Father would be worried. Instead of just Aiden walking me back, Riley and Lucas accompanied me as well. It was quite nice, just the three of us walking through the crisp night air. I bade goodnight to the boys at the top of the Grand Staircase. As I was walking down, Aiden called out to me.

"Don't forget about Lesson Two tomorrow!" Lesson Two? Whatever happened to Lesson One? Ah well, it didn't really matter.

Well, now that I have finished talking about last night, I had better tell you about this morning. I woke up quite early, which is very unusual for me. Father even asked if I was feeling alright when I joined him for breakfast on the private deck. I told him I was fine, and that I just wanted to hurry up and meet some of my new friends. Father was ecstatic when I told him about my new friends, although I left out the part about them being boys and from third class. I told him about the girls I had briefly met last night down in second class. Father told me to hurry up and get dressed, because he didn't want me to be late when meeting my friends. I kissed father on the cheek and told him I probably wouldn't be back until it was time for dinner. Father had no problem with that.

I rushed back to my suite and put on my most plain dress. It was a creamy yellow cotton dress, with a matching ribbon for my hair. I decided to leave my long black hair out, not caring that it would be dreadfully knotty at the end of the day. I stood in front of my full length mirror and studied myself. I wasn't beautiful or gorgeous like most other girls my age. I was just merely pretty. I was fairly tall for my age, which my aunt would always complain about. I was skinny (yet another flaw), my skin was milk white and as soft as a baby's, my eyes were almond shaped and a deep brown flecked with green and gold. I had high cheek bones, full lips and a small jaw line. My raven black hair fell to my shoulders and was outrageously curly. My mother always used to tease me about my curly hair, saying that I had eaten the crusts on my bread too often. I envied my mother's beautiful straight black hair that shone in the sun. Lucky Amelia had inherited Mother's straight black hair, whereas I had inherited Father's unruly curls. I sighed and tore my eyes from the mirror. Why was my appearance so important to me now? Was it because I was now friends with three very handsome boys? No, that was highly unlikely. Then why in God's name do I always look in mirrors or windows and fix my hair??

* * *

**Hmm, now that this is actually posted...I have no idea what to write next. Idea's anyone??**

**VampSa**


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